Repost- Redheads

Repost from my old blog.

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The audience asks, I deliver. Not just a few words of what you want to hear but from the heart. Not fiction but truth. The unvarnished, but well polished, truth. I polished and polished...

I don't know what it is. Redheads. Is it summer and time for women to chose whatever hair color they wish? I don't know.

With the family out of town for a few weeks the cupboards were getting bare. On the way home from work last night I stopped for some "man groceries". Let's see- here's the receipt: Sauza Tequila Reposado, Chocolate pretzels, Fresca Picante Salsa, Spiced Salami, Tortilla Chips, Avocados, Patron Citronage Liqueur, Frozen Mangos, Cheese, Frozen Garlic Fries, Carne Asada...

As I was entering the store a good looking woman with long wavy auburn hair was walking out. As I shopped a 20-something, semi-goth woman with black and velvet red hair kept passing me in the aisles, which are very narrow in this store. To cap it, as I approached the checkstands the resident hot college student/cashier was working. She is really cute with blazing red hair cut short and usually spiked up. She is always nice whether I'm alone or with the kids (who she always gives stickers).

So I had redheads on the brain. A bunch of my blog friends are redheads too. Then in response to my request for a little help learning to dance country/western style I got a message from a twenty-five year old occasional dance instructer offering to show me some moves.

Honestly I felt a bit lecherous in taking her up on the offer, but I got over that. We traded a few emails and she seemed very nice. I sent her a photo so she could pick me out of the crowd. She told me she had long red hair and a great smile. Her name was Jessie and she would meet me at about 9:00. Her ride home wouldn't arrive until 12:00 so that would give more than enough time.*

I headed over to The Outwest Outpost to meet her, arriving 1/2 hour before the appointed time. I arrived and walked in, wearing my boot-cut dark denim jeans, a light blue denim shirt, and my best black boots.

The place was fairly empty when I walked in, which relaxed me a bit. I was pretty apprehensive about making a fool of myself plus my own anxiety about what wasn't really, but sort of seemed like a blind date. Having never been on anything that wasn't really, but sort of seemed like a blind date, I needed a bit of courage to help me relax.

I walked up to the bar and saw people drinking beer on my left and beer on my right. Now mind you I've had beer but I really don't care for the taste or the way it makes me burp or the short time that it stays in my body. I'm normally a red wine kind of guy but I didn't think this was the place to be ordering wine. A gin martini, up, really hits the spot too but that didn't seem right either. I do enjoy one more thing and that's a good margarita but honestly I don't trust many people to make them the way I like- good Tequila, good citrus liqueur, and fresh limon aka key lime juice. No mixers.

So I said to the bartender, "One shot of Jose Cuervo" and he obliged. I didn't waste time and before I knew it that warm feeling was spreading down my throat.

It was gone mighty quickly though so I turned right back and said "A second shot of Jose Cuervo if you would" and he did. I held the glass for just a bit longer but not for long. I decided to let those work for a few minutes as I stepped away from the bar and over to the mostly empty pool tables. A coctail waitress walked up and asked if she could get me anything and I said how about a rack of balls so I can try to remember how to play pool.

She obliged and soon I was tucked in the corner busy making a mockery of the fine game of pool. I got very good at sinking the little white ball which would have been great if this was golf but had trouble with the stripey and colored balls which is more the point in this game. I seemed to lose track of time as I did battle.

Soon I heard a sweet voice with a southern twang over my shoulder suggesting that if I aimed for the destination and not the origination I might have better luck. I turned to see piercing green eyes, long red hair, long legs, but mostly cleavage that I had no business looking at. I had no words but she did and called me by name, saying my photo looked more geeky than the real thing. I could only blurt out that she must be Jessie and I doubted that a photo could ever do her justice.

I still had no words but luckily the cocktail waitress walked up to ask if she could bring us something. Jessie ordered iced tea and I said I'd have the same. As the waitress turned away I said "and a third shot of Jose Cuervo if you don't mind". The drinks came quickly as Jessie tried help me keep the white ball where it belonged while getting the other balls off the table. Luckily the band started up before I could finish making a fool of myself so we went to start the lesson. I almost forgot but then remembered and downed the shot in one gulp to hopefully let my legs relax a bit.

We worked a bit on how many times two left feet could step on two white boots but luckily she must have had steel toes because she didn't complain. There was something about fast fast slow slow and step step but I seemed to do slow slow fast fast and trip trip.

Mercifully the band took a short break and we went back to our sweet tea but as I passed the bar I said "A fourth shot of Jose Cuervo sir might be what I need".
My dancing seemed to pick up from there and I fancied myself getting pretty good. Those shots were small though so between songs I tried to keep count.

Eventually it got crowded and hot and Jessie asked if I wanted to join her outside for a smoke. I was surprised that she smoked but said sure I could use some cooler air. We stepped out and she said doesn't really smoke but it's a good excuse to take a break. She didn't have a match and I'm not that resourceful but I said there's a lighter in my car.

We found the car but I realized that although there are four lighter sockets none of them have lighter elements. Jessie said that's okay. We sat and talked and she asked more about why I wanted to learn to dance after fifteen years being married to a country girl. I admitted that I'm really a country boy but an Oklahoma city girl is more of a country girl than a California country boy is country. The talk went on to the things that are going on and how I want to try everything possible to woo my country girl.

The seven minute smoke break took an hour or more as my story poured out to her very sympathetic ear. As the parking lot emptied we realized that we'd better do something other than sit and somehow something turned into something else.
Somehow we started kissing and pressing our bodies against one another. We got warmer and warmer and touched more and more. Soon she unbuttoned my shirt and started stroking my skin. A car that's great for driving isn't always the best for doing other things and things started getting in the way. She asked me to walk around to her side and I did. She opened the door but didn't get out, instead sat on the seat with her legs outside. She pulled me close and I tried to lean in but hit my head on the door frame. She pushed me back a bit and grabbed my belt buckle. It came undone and she went for my zipper but found buttons instead. Not quite as smooth to open but as she released each one I felt a bit of release as well.

Soon I was holding the roof rack of the car to keep from collapsing as she stroked my cock with one hand. The nails of the other made traces on my chest.

What happened next was a bit of a blur. The memory seems real and imaginary at the same time. She held my cock in her hand, stroking the shaft as she moved her mouth closer and closer to it. The light of the streetlights gave me a good view, watching the contrast between her dark nail polish and pale fingers as they stroked me. She licked the underside of my circumcised head, teasing the vein and tip, then looked up at me with a toothy smile before engulfing the head in her lovely lips. I felt the tightness of fingers stroking while I enjoyed the sight of her mouth alternately plunging down on my cock, then licking the head again, and finally looking at me, over and over again.

I began to breathe heavier and moan, which seemed to inspire her as well. She slipped her other hand between her legs and began stroking. I couldn't see what she was doing but I could hear her reactions. Moaning and whimpering as she continued sucking. Her orgasm came before mine. Even then, she still treated me to the show of her mouth on my cock.

I couldn't believe that I was watching this totally hot 25 year old college girl sucking. Even though we had just met the long conversation made me feel very close to her.

The hand on my cock pumped harder, her moans having pushed me close to the edge. She kept stroking and sucking as she listened to my moans. Finally she pulled back and said "Come for me" and that triggered my orgasm, my cum spurting. She aimed me up so I wouldn't make a mess on her outfit, instead I felt my hot cum hitting my chest.

As quickly as It had begun, it was over. For good reason too, as a car pulled into the far side of the parking lot Jessie looked and said "My husband just drove up so I'd better go". As soon as he had walked toward the front door Jessie hopped out of the car, letting her skirt drop back into place as she gave me one more smile. She said to send her an email as she ran to the side entrance. Lucky timing and I didn't even think about the fact that she might be married.

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That's pretty much how the fantasy went, the part before the * being all true, but then Jessie and I chatted again after I had an offer from the owner of a club that was having some lessons tonight so we decided to not meet.

That didn't stop me from enjoying the fantasy. Afterward I got up and showered. Then I put on some dark blue, snug fitting, boot cut button fly jeans, a faded denim shirt with metal buttons, and my black boots. I hopped in the car and drove to the saloon.

Entering the place I was a bit nervous. The dance lessons were starting at 7:00 and it was 6:55. I walked up to the bar and said to the bartender, "One shot of Jose Cuervo"